


I'm Sorry I'm Late

by jadistmt



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadistmt/pseuds/jadistmt
Summary: Arthur got a young waitress named Eliza pregnant with a baby boy and he tries his hardest to make time to visit them.
Relationships: Eliza/Arthur Morgan
Kudos: 13





	I'm Sorry I'm Late

**Author's Note:**

> names and death/graves in front of house are cannon

The soft footsteps of Arthur's horse against the dirt trail paired peacefully with the sound of the river he rode next to. It wasn't a particularly sunny day. Pale clouds evenly painted every corner of the sky and the wind was cool but calm. By the smell of the air, it was likely to rain. It wasn't a long ride to where Eliza, the mother of his child lived. He tried his hardest to make time to spend a week or so with them as often as he could. It had been a few months and Arthur didn't like how long it had been since he had the time. The guilt of leaving them at the end of last winter was already amounting and consuming enough. Issac was her son; Arthur's son, and he wanted to make sure he could at least try to give the kid a better shot at a father than what he had. Thinking on it, it seemed right to be there sometimes to give Eliza money and teach Issac things. He wanted to support her. He took it as his duty and he was taking it increasingly seriously. It was like when Hosea and Dutch found him, a teenage delinquent drifting from town to town with no family and no purpose. They took him and turned him into something because he didn't have anyone to guide him. Aimlessly running down one battered trail to the next, living off robbing every man with a pair of shoes was not how he wished to grow up. At the time, it even seemed normal. Arthur found himself excited to see his boy and fish in the spot Arthur showed him when he first taught Issac. The memory of the inferring, little missing tooth smile he did when he caught the smallest fish Arthur had seen on a hook was soothing. He wanted to take time to teach Issac songs and teach him to shoot when he was older.  
When he finally came to the end of his route, a buck crossed the path in front of him. His tall, crowning antlers were a mesmerizing exhibit of nature. He slowed his horse and trotted toward the front door as the deer ran out of sight. There was no fire in the chimney and no sense of movement in the house. It was a white, small, two story house with four windows total. Arthur hitched his horse out front and walked up the front steps to the house. Dead flower petals blew lightly across the porch. He knocked three hard times and waited patiently for a sign of footsteps. Moments passed and there was nothing. Arthur knocked again.  
"Eliza? It's Arthur." He called against the door.  
Figuring she must not be out of the house, Arthur nervously sighed and decided to wait on the porch for them to return. He lit a cigarette with a match and sat down on the steps. He smoked and watched the forest, the tops of trees blew in the wind and darker clouds loomed closer to the house. It was hypnotizing to watch the storm blow in. He got all the way through his cigarette, got up to go left and look at the back of the house. There was a spot with a table where a chess set was usually set, but it had been put away. Nothing, not even the chair remained. The back door was boarded up and it was and felt immensely eerie. Arthur went around the next side of the house to get back around to the front. As soon as he turned the corner--ahead of him--against the disheveled siding of the house were two crosses stuck straight into the dirt. There was a size difference in the patches of fresh dirt before him. Arthur stopped right in front of the crosses and crouched down. There was a sudden intense pain in his chest and his throat tightened up, hitching his breath. His eyes were hot and started welling with tears as he ran his fingers over the planks of wood. He felt sick to his stomach. At first he was filled with disbelief, then sadness, then anger. He erupted with the anger harbored against himself for his timing, cursing to himself.  
"God dammit! No… no…"  
His blood ran cold. He could almost hear their voices as he grasped for the memory of when he last saw them. For a moment he was still, not able to express nor move from his position. His jaw clenched as he wiped his eyes and rested his face against his palm. It was unlike any anger he'd ever felt before and his fist was almost cramped with how hard he was holding it. Like a switch, he broke back into tears, kneeling again and letting the tears fall into the dirt. He couldn't even form the words or the thoughts he wanted to form. All he knew was he was kneeling where they were buried. The rain began to fall but he remained where he was. All he could muster was to sit in front of their graves while the rain came pouring down on top of him. He didn't find poetry or comfort in it, it only angered him more. He had never been very quick to anger, but it encompassed his very being. Violent impulses along with faded recollections flashed like a picture show through his head as he could only wonder why. Albeit a God fearing man, he had lost trust that there was anyone looking out for the souls he abandoned on Earth. When he started to get so drenched in the rain he was jittering and shivering, he still didn't move. He laid down in the wet grass and let the rain wash over him. Not able to find the will to do anything else but feel the tightness in his chest, he ceased to sob. Vision blurry still with raindrops and tears, he was left stuck with his intense self hatred and the gray sky. He became a madman in those moments, letting the emotions swallow him whole. 

Days later, he went to the kitchen she waited and asked around about a young woman with blonde curls named Eliza and her little boy. The man who owned the building recognized Arthur. They sat down and the room filled with a knowing and silent tension.  
"Sheriff said she and the boy were shot in a home robbery a month back. I'm very sorry, son. It was a tragic matter hearing what happened to her and that boy." The kind man with spectacles sympathized as he explained the matter.  
"She… she barely had enough money to support them both. What'd they steal?" Arthur stuttered, staring off.  
"Eliza never had more than ten dollars to her name. She ain't want to bother no one. It takes a sick man to kill a woman and her child." The man tried to console, as fresh as it was for them both.


End file.
